Wednesday, September 18, 2013

“Do you think they really sell that?” my son asked, pointing to a photo of a giant stack of burgers on the window outside of Steak ‘n Shake, his choice for dinner since his dad was out of town.

“I don’t know, but if they do, I’m ordering it,” I said, thinking a) it was just an artist rendition, and there’s no way they sell anything that size, and b) if he doesn't finish it, we can take it home, and he can eat on it for the rest of the week.

We went inside and waited to be seated while he got more and more excited over the prospect of his giant meal.

“You mean you’d really buy that for me?” he asked.

“Your dad would kill me, but, yes, yes, I will,” I replied.

“It’s probably $20,” he said.

Thinking the waitress would laugh at us for even asking if it existed, I told him, that even so, I would buy the giant burger. I told him it was worth it for the picture alone.

This was not entirely the truth. The truth is if it had been any ordinary day, I would have nipped his request to get Steak ‘n Shake in the bud. At best, I would have gone through the drive thru and told him no way were going inside just because he thought the milkshakes tastes better in the fancy glasses versus the paper to-go cups. I would have balked at spoiling him in such a way, even if he had just worked pretty hard on the football field. I would have told him that we had plenty of food at home and that he had homework to do, and I was tired from working all day.

Instead, I said OK.

What he didn’t know, and what he will never know, is this was not an ordinary day. Today, someone’s mom was dying. Today, maybe even while we were ordering and devouring our seven-patty burger – which was not on the menu – two little girls, 11 and 9, were losing their mom to cancer.

I didn’t know the woman, but I had gotten to meet her girls at my son’s football game. They were beautiful brown-eyed girls with braids that were twisted with bright pink and purple thread. They were striking, and they were sweet, as they innocently played with the daughter of the nurse who had been caring for their mom. My nurse friend had brought them to the game because their mother was dying - today.

My friend took a photo of them with the game mascot and told them she would frame it and wanted them to remember this day when they got to come and see a football game and have so much fun playing with her little girl. I was thinking, “How could they forget?”

It was a special day, indeed. One I’m sure my son will never forget either, for obviously different reasons. I’m sure he’ll remember me laughing at him trying to fit the entire monster burger in his mouth, marveling at how he finished it before the waitress brought our milkshakes, and him groaning afterward that he’d never order it again.

On this day, he declared me officially the best mom ever. When I saw the greasy cheeseburger, I felt like the worst mom ever. Let’s hope I fall somewhere in between.

I don’t know where the mom who passed away today stood on that scale, but I could tell by the kindness in the eyes of her kids, their simple gratitude at being able to watch a football team from another town - a town that they were only visiting because their mom was terminally ill and in the hospital - that it must have been somewhere very near the top.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

I gotta admit I used to love making mud pies as kid.
As an adult, however, the thought of purposely wading in it was not appealing.
Yet, for my 15-year-old daughter, it was a goal and one she wanted to share with
me – her over-40 mama.

Would could I say?

In one month, I’ll be dressed in pink and participating
in the Pretty Muddy Women’s Mud Run in Atlanta, Ga. Actually, it’s just south
of Atlanta in the tiny town of Fairburn. I’ll be covered in mud, having run 3.1
miles, tackled 10 obstacles, and I will pose with my incredible teammates, and
I will feel proud. I will feel exhilarated. I will be a mess – and I won’t
care.

I know because I did my first mud run this summer at
the urging of my daughter. It seemed an impossible – and dirty – task. But,
after having surgery last Oct. and being on bed rest for a time, I knew I was
lucky for a number of reasons. One, to have the ability to participate – not win
- but participate, and, two, to have a teenage daughter who wants to do
something so healthy – with me, nonetheless.

Of course, she hasn’t seen my costume yet …

Want to join me in this all-women's run? Visit www.prettymuddywomensrun.com to start your own team or sign up as an individual. If you'd like to be on my team, just email me at leighslifeblog@aol.com. Event occurs Sat., Oct. 12. Start times vary. Free family run at the end for husbands, brothers and the like.

About Me

Take one Georgia-based writer, mix with humor and everyday life, and you have Life as Leigh sees it.
Meredith Leigh Knight is an award-winning writer and columnist who — when she’s not playing dress up and taking refuge among adults at her corporate communication job — is continually pondering the mysteries of motherhood, such as why the words “Hey, Mom!” are never followed by anything good.
You may contact her at leighslifeblog@aol.com or follow her on Twitter at @leighslifeblog.